


V-Necks and Ice Cream

by catvampcrazines



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Can I have loads of Pydia fluff right now, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Future!Pydia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this in May and I'm cracking up all over again., Married Pydia, Plus it's starting to thunder outside, Pregnant Lydia, Pydia, Schmoop, please?, so the mood is setting.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catvampcrazines/pseuds/catvampcrazines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Set 4-5 years in the future.) (KaelsMiscellany prompted me with Rage and Storm and I'll always be grateful for what came out in my first serious go at Pydia fic. *squishes*)</p><p>Pregnant Lydia can't be held responsible for actions during hormone-fueled ice cream rages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	V-Necks and Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KaelsMiscellany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelsMiscellany/gifts).



All of them. She’d cut up all of them. Every v-neck that Lydia had claimed dipped way too outrageously, yet secretly liked, lay strewn on their bedroom floor.

Forgetting to temper himself, he yelled her name, thunder cracking loudly right on cue.

Peter took a moment, a deep breath, and ignored the rags to find his clearly upset wife. 

He hesitated as he spotted her from behind the screen door, sitting on their porch swing, neck bare, her feet not able to touch cherry stained boards because she sat all the way back. 

He opened the door, evaluating her profile as she frowned at the rain that began to pour from the night sky, highlighted by streetlamps.

He sat next to her, not saying anything. She darted a glance at him from the corner of her eye, hands placed in her lap beneath a slightly rounded stomach. 

He spoke first. “I’m sorry.”

She stubbornly glared at the sky for a few beats.

"You don’t even know what you—remember what I’d warned you I’d do if you ate all the ice cream again?" She turned to face him.

"Oh." He winced and cast his eyes down. Another failure of his on this strange ride. "I’m sorry."

Her frown shifted to a pout. “No, I am.” She covered one of his hands - which he’d lain in his lap to mimic her - with hers, patting it while she vented her self-frustration. “I saw that Haagen Dazs gone and went into some kind of hormone-fueled ice cream rage.”

"Still—sorry," Peter sighed.

He looked at her in time to catch brilliant green eyes welling up and teeth worrying at her lower lip. “Stop. You know what that’ll do to me.”

"You say you’ll cry, but I think you  _might_  only cry during the delivery—if I’m crushing your hand with some newfound banshee super strength neither of us knows about.”

She scooted closer and dropped her head on his shoulder. She definitely sniffled, saying, “I really did like those shirts… must have been expensive.”

Peter managed not to wince for the second time that night, shrugging instead. ”I’ll get more.” Bringing his arm around her shoulders, his hand drifted up, fingers playing with loose tendrils at her nape. “But first, meaning in a few minutes, I’m going to get you three pints of your choosing and I won’t be touching them. What kinds do you want?”

She tilted her face enough to kiss the spot just under where his jaw began, making him shiver. ”How about you can have some if I spoon-feed you?”

Peter cleared his throat, trying to cover a soft, pleased, growl. His thoughts were not entirely clean and he felt that peculiar flash of guilt that visited too often these days. 

He nodded, muttering, “If you spoon-feed me…”

He could feel Lydia shaking with laughter before it bubbled out to the surface.

He hopped off of the swing, grabbing it to keep it from swaying, bending close until his face was parallel to Lydia’s, his eyebrows raised at the hand she’d clamped over her mouth to keep herself from laughing too hard. 

"Alright. Stop making fun of me. I’m off to the store for my adorable, still-sexy, occasionally rage-consumed, pregnant wife. Now, what do you want, Lydia?" He brought the bridge of his nose in to touch hers, those wet lashes brushing his as he stared into mirthful eyes. 

If there was nuzzling, it was because he needed something to fill his waiting time.

 

 ( **[♥](http://catvampcrazines.tumblr.com/tagged/myteenwolf)** )


End file.
